To Tell a Story
by CatherineA
Summary: He had known Tessa had a way with words, but he had never known they could be this beautiful.


**I love Jessa and was in a writing mood! Enjoy! (Reviews are lovely.)**

**Disclaimer - Cassandra Clare's, not mine!**

* * *

Jem entered the London apartment, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Tessa?" he called softly. It was late, and he didn't wish to wake her. They might have only been reunited for a couple of months, and they might be unsure exactly where this relationship stood, but Jem had learned quite a few things about this Tessa – like that once she was asleep, she didn't like being woken again before nine, unless absolutely necessary.

"Mmm?" came the muffled reply.

Jem entered the living room to find Tessa curled up like a cat on the couch, a laptop resting on her knees. He hung his coat on the rack, and plopped into the armchair opposite her. The whole time, Tessa's eyes never left what she was typing.

"Tessa? Is everything okay? It's awfully late…"

"What? Oh, goodness. It's almost one, I'm going to be exhausted tomorrow…" she lamented to herself. She snapped the laptop shut and set it on the table, standing to stretch. Jem had not yet grasped the love for modern technology – not that he thought it bad, in fact he thought quite the opposite, but everyone seemed so dependent on it. If it wasn't a phone in someone's hand, it was a laptop or a tablet or an iPod. "Jem, where were you? It _is_ almost one."

"You will laugh at me…"

"Will not."

Jem looked at her skeptically, then sighed. "There is this twenty-four hour McDonalds, and I absolutely love their smoothies, and then I got caught listening to this beautiful live music on the street on the way back. That's all," he finished lamely.

Tessa, true to her word, didn't laugh, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward just the same. She bent over, hugging Jem.

"I'm going to bed," she said, standing and turning. She was almost to the hall when Jem thought to ask her.

"Tessa?" She stopped. "What were you working on?"

She looked startled at his question. "Nothing. I mean, writing. It was just a stupid story; probably nothing will come of it."

"Oh," said Jem, nodding. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Jem."

* * *

It was months later, and Tessa had not given up on that "stupid story." Jem routinely asked to read it, and Tessa routinely told him to wait until it was finished. It was a warm June morning when Tessa wandered into the kitchen as Jem made toast and eggs.

"Jem?" she asked quietly.

He looked up, startled. "What's wrong, Tessa?" he asked, concern in his voice.

Tessa shook her head, crossing her arms. "Nothing, don't worry. It's just…I'm going out today, and I was wondering if you could read my story while I was gone."

Jem was startled, but nodded. "Of course I will."

* * *

Jem slowly shut the laptop, trying to control the trembling of his fingers. A few tears spilled from his lashes onto his cheekbones, and he hid his head in his hands. He had known Tessa had a way with words, but he had never known they could be this beautiful.

The story hadn't been long, probably only as long as to be considered a novella. And yet, it had told so many stories. It was a series of vignettes that, in short, told Tessa's story. It had told everything, from Tessa finding out about her parents' deaths to her marriage to Will to her children's antics to her reunion with Jem just months previously. And it told of everything in between as well - about the members of the old London Institute and what they'd all gone through, and Tessa's adventure in the past years. There hadn't been a single story in there that hadn't pulled at a heartstring.

Jem took a deep breath, crossing to the apartment window. From it, you could see a sliver of the Thames sneaking under Blackfriar's Bridge. If you looked very closely, you could even see the steeple of the Institute. Jem sat on the window seat, and looked out.

He looked, and he thought.

* * *

Jem heard the front door opening in the other room, and yet he couldn't bring himself to move.

"Jem? Jem, I brought dinner," called Tessa. Jem blinked, turning his head from the setting sun just as Tessa entered the room and set the fast food on the coffee table. She pursed her lips, seeing the closed laptop.

Almost unconsciously, Jem found himself striding across the room towards her. He pulled her tightly into his arms, and she returned the hug.

"That was beautiful, Tessa."

"I'm glad," she murmured into his shoulder. He felt her squeeze her eyes shut. "It's a story I've wanted to tell for a long time. I just…I didn't know how."

Jem rested his chin on top of her head. "Thank you."

"What?"

"Thank you," he repeated. "Because those are stories I didn't know I needed to hear. But I did. I really did."


End file.
